


Queen

by thisismybrainrain



Series: centuries of brooding and blood [14]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F, POV: Faith Lehane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 22:10:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5222789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisismybrainrain/pseuds/thisismybrainrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>faith thinks about buffy as a queen as they patrol one night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Queen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skeletonannie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skeletonannie/gifts).



‘No one sees your crystal crown, no one looks/  
at the carpet of red gold/  
that you tread as you pass,  
the nonexistenet carpet – Neruda 

 

Everyone else had always noticed B’s majesty. But you are the first one to name 

her queen. 

You have graduated from a follower to hers beside her. 

You walk the nonexistent carpet and you are blessed in her presence.

Your body is wet with unbound want for something in this world.

You’re forever playing with her fingers as your slay at night at the in betweens 

and you’re grasping for her touch. 

Lungs gasping for air under the weight of her. 

She is the something that has unhinged the very heart of you.

You break the necks of your evil demons as she beheads another with the scythe.

There is green blood coating your hands but she takes them to the water tap 

used for helping the life of death flowers.

She cleanses you of your sins with her own bloody hands and you listen to your 

own internal rivers they are awake with your want for her. 

This had never been the aim, but, you walk out pass the gravestones and you see the red carpet unraveling before her but you catch sight of her crown too fragile to touch - when you are not leaning her against some alleyway wall or when you find yourselves in a bathroom something akin to that first time in the Bronze.

Such fresh majesty in those days of newly found callings. 

Eastern Europe forms icey cracks on her crown. 

She pulls a roll of red from her jacket. 

You make it home to bed.

This where she names you hers: the queen.

**Author's Note:**

> neruda ruins me - thank you for the words  
> thank you cole
> 
> this is a writing exercise - the fire has been lit.


End file.
